


His other half

by CallistoPen, MoonlightSonata (CallistoPen)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Manipulation, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Time Travel, tomarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoPen/pseuds/CallistoPen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoPen/pseuds/MoonlightSonata
Summary: He glared back at Riddle while getting back on the chair after he had dived on the side when Riddle spoke the curse so brazenly. His soulmate mark pulsed with contained energy underneath his wristband. "Avada Kedavra" it read, lovingly written in Tom Riddle's very own calligraphy. The fuck? How many chances in this God-forsaken universe that the first words Riddle ever spoke to him in 1943 were the same words he spoke in 1981?Or Harry ends up back in time, and history repeats itself, while fate is loath to cleave apart these arch-enemies.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 71
Kudos: 578





	1. Chapter 1

"Avada Kedavra," whispered Riddle.

Harry flinched and dodged and stared when nothing happened. Riddle was not even holding his wand. His hands were folded on the table and he was leaning forwards and his eyes were intensely focused on Harry's face. Specifically his forehead. Where his lightning-bolt scar proudly rested in a corner. Harry was sure it was flaming red since it was prickling strangely and not hurting at all. 

This was the first Harry was even interacting with Tom Riddle since moving back in time. He had fallen straight into the Mirror of Desire when he found it repaired in one of the corridors of Hogwarts at night. Sirius had just died and he wished to see him one last time. 

He glared back at Riddle while getting back on the chair after he had dived on the side when Riddle spoke the curse so brazenly. His soulmate mark pulsed with contained energy underneath his wristband. "Avada Kedavra" it read, lovingly written in Tom Riddle's very own calligraphy. The fuck? How many chances in this God-forsaken universe that the first words Riddle ever spoke to him in 1943 where the same words he spoke in 1981? 

Harry's cheeks reddened for his hasty reaction but in his defence Tom Riddle was quick to fire Killing curses in his direction back in his time and he had dodged instinctively. 

He opened his mouth to thoroughly lambast the moron for playing these cruel tricks on him, and it was their first interaction in so many months spent in sixth year, and why was Riddle even bothering to prank him, when he was an innocent Gryffindor, studying in the library, and for Morgana's sake, would he stop leering at his poor scar? 

Riddle beat him by leaning forwards on his elbow and resting his chin on his fist. "Your scar," he clarified, "is in the shape of the wand movement of the killing curse." He raised his index finger up to trace the shape of his zigzag scar in the air.

"Quite a peculiar shape," he added, "and your reaction to the curse spell was very telling." His mouth quirked up at the corner, and his quick-silver eyes laser-focused back on Harry's expression. 

This was the first time Harry was speaking to his soulmate. It was ironic how fate worked. Quite conscious of his next words, his eyes darted to the black wristband peeking out from Riddle's sleeve on his left arm and blurted out before he lost his courage: 

"Sowilo." Harry stated simply. 

It took a moment. 

Then. 

Riddle's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. His eyebrows were raised. He was flabbergasted.

It was amusing to see the Slytherin prefect sporting such an unguarded expression on his fine, aristocratic face. 

Harry smothered a smirk, and played innocent and continued. 

"I mean, the shape of the scar is supposed to symbolise the rune sowilo, the rune for the sun. You know what it means, right?" He asked peeking a glance to Riddle's face, who was struggling to get his expression back into control and was clutching his left wrist like a madman. 

When no response was forthcoming, Harry continued with narrowed eyes, as if he thought Riddle was stupid. "Hey, are you all right? Are you so surprised that you are wrong for once in your life? My scar is meant to symbolise protection and a shield against evil." 

Harry was enjoying himself insulting Riddle while playing oblivious to his predicament Riddle had just discovered his soulmate was sitting in front of him, with no acknowledgement on Harry's part. 

"You are my soulmate." Riddle interrupted sharply and slid the black band off his wrist and bared it to Harry's eyes. 

Harry sucked in a shocked breath and looked at his own scrawl curling on smooth skin over green veins, spelling out "Sowilo" in black.

He was not expecting Riddle to be so straightforward.

Riddle should hate him now and reject him and woe is him, that he had a Gryffindor soulmate, and he was Harry Evans, a nobody mudblood whose only talent was Quidditch and a passing knack at defence. 

Harry expected this scenario and accepted it.

It was as it should be because Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter were meant to be arch-enemies, not soulmates.

It was a necessary truth spun by a prophecy and recited in a hoarse voice, that spoke of the destinies of two boys who were so similar yet so different at their core, a fate determining one to kill the other in the end.

Equals and rivals. 

So when Riddle pronounced the brazen fact that they were "Soulmates", Harry said, furrowing his brows, the picture of confusion:

"Umm, what? Are you sure...? I knew who my soulmate was since I was eleven..." which was true enough. 

He had known his soulmate was Voldemort since he had roped in Hermione to search for "Avada Kedavra" in the Hogwarts library in the first year. Needless to say, he had run away and cried and vomited when he had realized who his one true love was supposed to be.

So he looked straight in Riddle's eyes, the master legilimens, and spoke the truth. 

"In fact, I've met them several times over the years." He had met Riddle, in his first year, second year, fourth year, fifth year and countless times in his nightmares and visions. He deliberately left the gender out because same-sex soulmates were rare. 

He smiled a little pityingly and continued: "Perhaps, it is a coincidence. I spoke the word meant for your soulmate. Sorry," he added sheepishly, and looked down because it was a tad heart-breaking to see Riddle's face fall from the hope? that was traced in his very lineaments and his silver eyes. 

Truths twisted to serve a lie, but still truths. 

Maybe he had been too good in his deception because Riddle didn't even ask for proof in the form of examining Harry's soulmark. Alternatively, because it was a social no-no to do so. 

Anyway, Riddle believed him enough that he nodded once and stood abruptly and left without a backward glance, dark robe swirling behind. 

It was a very dramatic exit. 

"Wow. You were wrong twice today. " Harry called out after him in the silence of the library. 

Riddle's steps faltered only slightly, then he walked on.

Harry was viscerally delighted when he could hurt Riddle in any way. 

It was the right thing to do to lie. What did it it say about Harry, that his soulmate, matched by magic and paired by destiny, was Lord Voldemort of all people? 

It was the rational course of action never to reveal the truth to Riddle.

He didn't deserve Harry's love and companionship. 

Harry squared his shoulders and went back to study the battle-magic text open in front of him.

His heart was hollow in his chest. 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry saw Riddle again the next day, but the Slytherin didn't give any sign of his previous blunder. So Harry endeavoured to observe him closely during the day. The back of Tom's curly hair during Defence. His profile during Transfiguration. Stealing a glimpse of his face over his shoulder during Charms. But Tom did not throw one glance his way. His expression remained indifferent. Cold. Impenetrable.

Harry imagined him dying inside with humiliation. Ashamed to show his face to Harry. He felt a savage pleasure in witnessing such a humiliating moment of social faux pas. It was good to bring him down a peg or two.

At length Harry gave up trying to observed the minutest sign of a troubled mind. But when he thought his glances were not reciprocated, he had a nasty surprise during one his night-time trips to the Forbidden Section. All the time when Harry was looking at him, Tom had been aware of the eyes on him and was inwardly smirking.

Night after night he sequestered himself in the heavy shadows of the Forbidden Section and devoured books in search of a clue for time travel. On that particular trip it was beyond midnight and after casting a ward to alert to any unwanted arrival in his cosy nook, Harry was sat on the floor cushioned with a charm. Books surrounded him from the Dark Arts section. The light of Lumos from his wand created an illuminated bubble in the darkness between the shelves. He went through each tome and then discarded them on the growing pile next to his extended legs on the floor. Then picked one another dusty book, his eye roved over the index on the yellow page and then he flipped to the relevant pages to skim the section for something useful in aiding him in his time travel conundrum. So far he had learnt of a lot about dark curses, rituals, incantations, potions and occult theories about spiritual world, but nothing useful on time travelling as a viable activity. Harry was hard-pressed even to find a mention of time-turners that existed in the 90s which meant that either they were not invented yet or the Department of Mysteries kept them a secret.

So far, his reading had showed him only speculation on time travel, theorising on a possible time travelling device or spell and the nature of time. The existence of time-turners proved that time travel was possible alongside Harry's own presence in the past, therefore there must be some mechanism to transport him forward.

Hermione's warnings cautioned him against changing anything in his present. It could cause serious paradoxes and even end up killing his future self. Granted, if he could get away with killing Tom Riddle and thus creating a better future for the Wizarding World, Harry did not care if he erased his own existence in the process. However, according to the logic of his theory, even if he erased himself from existence, there would be no Harry Potter travelling back from the 90s to 1942 in order to murder Tom Riddle, therefore he was stuck in the same conundrum. Harry's best bet was to find a way to the future. But how could one find a way to something that did not exist yet and was dependent on the free will actions if millions of people that will create that future.

The future of 1996 was his past and the past 1942 was now his future. The former existed only his memory and the latter was an actuality.

Harry's head thudded against the bookshelf. His dreamy wandering thoughts and hopes were lulling him into sleep. He halfheartedly leafed through the book he was consulting on time's effect on a specific ritual involving emotional release. One of the rituals was about a branch of magic called Love magic. It was ancient and little was known about it, because it was based on something as nebulous as the concept of love. Love magic was used in the protection of a loved one from an enemy and required the sacrifice of the one harbouring love. It registered to Harry with a dull ache in his heart, that this was the old magic his mother, Lily used sacrifice herself, when she refused to step aside and and to save her from Voldemort.

Harry thought Tom will never understand love and that was his greatest weakness.

He continued to read, yawning, the corollaries to the use of the ritual. Love magic was different from soulmate magic, love potions did not create the feeling of love necessary for the ritual to work, the love of a mother to a child was the most the most useful template historically, followed by obscure examples in ancient times when the ritual was theoretically effective against Unforgivable Curses.

Harry closed his eyes and conjured his mother's face in his imagination. He remembered it as nebulous,vibrantly red hair flowing and eyes, bright and green on a smiling face full of adoration in the reflection of the Mirror of Erised.

There was a change of air in his little nook. He felt a breeze caress his face and behind his closed eyes there was a burst of light. He opened them to see the light of lumos blinding him. The book on his lap was lifted up in a long-fingered hand and Harry made a motion to grab it, but the other person was quicker and lifted the book higher. Harry suddenly woke up from his dreaming wishes of his heart and leapt to his feet, just to come face to face with the skeletal visage of a certain Slytherin. A corner of his lips lifted up in a smirk, and Tom shone the light on Harry's face.

"Hello Evans."


	3. Chapter 3

Tom's face was near his. His curls were artfully styled so that one casually fell over his high forehead and the rest of his face was in shadow, the lit wand lowered between their chests.

A corner of his lips was lifted up, smug.

"Didn't take you for a scholar, Evans."

Harry snorted. "In fact, I just sleepwalked here."

"I can tell." Tom's gaze flicked up and down his body, in his sleeping clothes, rather judgementally.

While the prefect himself was in his pristine uniform perfectly moulding the pure outline of his lean body.  
There was sparse stubble on his jaw and chin, which gave him a less than perfect appearance, but made Harry feel more comfortable. The prefect looked better with traces of humanity in his pristine perfection.

While Harry was checking him out rather brazenly, Tom's lips expanded in a full blown smirk that promised nothing good. Harry felt immediately apprehensive. The Slytherin catching him breaking school rules could put him into minor trouble with the school administration and into greater trouble when he was proven to be reading dark arts book illegally.

Not like Harry read them for the dark arts themselves but for his very own time dilemma but he couldn't outright defend himself with this. But expecting mercy in this quarter from Tom of all people was laughable.

"Riddle, can I help you with anything? Otherwise, I have to go back to my dormitory."

"Not so fast, hero. You could help me with something. First of all what are you doing lurking in the Forbidden Section after hours, in all appearance especially cosily absorbed in the perusal of illegal black magic tomes?"

Tom shined his wand on his little welcome nook Harry had made. Books in stacks next to the shelves and his warm blanket which had slipped from his legs when he stood.

"Intimately absorbed, I might say." 

"I was researching, Riddle."

"You couldn't simply ask for permission to access the Forbidden books?"

"Access to certain books is monitored." Harry said, gritting his teeth.

"I must say Evans, your midnight forays into the realms of dark arts is not properly suitable with your light Gryffindor persona you are going with during the day."

"My personality changes during the night. As I said, I am a sleepwalker and during this time my double takes over who is a bit more darker and edgier than me." Harry rambled incoherently.

Riddle merely looked amused. His diamond hard hard eyes remained the same. A clear, musical laugh rang out with a glass edge.

"Let's see what you were reading," and glancing at the tome in his hand opened where Harry had left it, he recited, "Love magic is one of the terrible and forbidden magics classified under the black arts..." he went on out loud, which was still a whisper in the hush of the library.

At one point he silenced and rapidly flicked his eyes across the text. In half a minute he had read both facing pages and then he raised his eyes to Harry who stood there resigned.

"Why are you interested in Love magic?"

"I am not at all, I was just flicking through the book" deflected Harry

Riddle raised one eyebrow, superciliously. "Pray, tell me, why are there fresh teardrops on these pages?"

Harry saw the round wet patches sullying the yellowed pages and his stomach dropped. This couldn't be happening. Not only Riddle could make his life hell by reporting him to the authorities but was also wondering about his proclivity to cry over books all in one night. He glanced about, his heart in his throat, for a quick exit from his embarrassing position.  
Riddle leaned in to gaze into Harry's eyes who was looking anywhere else but at the prefect. He was sure his face was on fire. Harry stepped back to avoid the smug prat invading his space and his back collided with the shelf. His back twinged in pain and he cringed.  
Riddle took his advantage and advanced forward, stepping up until there was no space. He snapped the book closed and dropped it on the stack on the floor. He loomed over Harry even though their height was nearly equal and placed his hand next to Harry'd head.

"Tell me, Evans, why is Love Magic a subject that affects you so emotionally?" He asked directly, his silver eyes probing into Harry's.

"It's none of your business, Riddle."

Riddle merely gazed back. Their breathing was the only sound and Riddle's wand the only light source between them. The silence and stillness of the late hour was only broken by their quiet breaths until it became unbearable to Harry.

"I am vaguely familiar with it. Do you believe the ritual works? That affective emotion such as love if accompanied by a sacrifice can create a blood magic so strong it can protect you from Unforgivables?" Wondered Riddle.

He didn't sound like Voldemort in the graveyard when he disdainfully dismissed Lily Potter's sacrifice. This Tom Riddle was genuinely intrigued by the idea of love as powerful enough to defeat death.  
This would not do. Love magic was the only defence his future mother had against the Dark Lord. Love was the greatest weakness of Tom Riddle, and Harry would exploit it if it gave Lily Potter the only fighting chance.  
His mouth dried, his heart palpitated. He was sure Riddle was observing his rapidly blinking eyes, trying to come up with a red herring.

"I don't think it really works" Harry said stammering. "There is no shield powerful enough to block unforgivables, let alone love. If this was real, then there would be a record somewhere of it happening, of someone surviving the killing curse for example. But you will not find one instance in history. Ancient love magic is hogwash. " Harry gained momentum, rushing his speech and maintaining eye contact to prove his honesty.

He leaned forward as Riddle was leaning forward, eager.  
Riddle was absorbed in his rant. "I mean, look at soulmates, they love each other enough to die for each other, but this ancient magic never has triggered."

  
Harry, breathless, waited for Riddle to compute the spiel he had just spilled. He smiled.

"I can see we have very similar views. Emotions will never be powerful enough to, let alone love, to defy and cross the laws of magic and death. I will let you in a secret. I strongly maintain love is not the most powerful magic, but hate is. The dark arts are stronger than death and they defeat love. Love magic is an old fairy tale for those weak enough to believe in childish lies that are told to control the herd. With the dark arts, there is a way to survive death, proving the dark arts are stronger than either." His voice fervent, his eyes bright and hard for the subject matter, Riddle's face looked bestial with pleasure. The pure lines of his morphed subtly into animalistic.

Notwithstanding the insane rhetoric he just heard, Harry wondered what method of dark arts Riddle used to conquer death. Both Voldemort and Harry survived the killing curse on 31st of October 1981. Harry survived because of old love magic and Voldemort's method was unknown and potentially darker and more forbidden than Lily Potter's love magic. What dark art had Tom done to survive so unnaturally?

Harry smiled and tried hard to look as eager as he could. Inside, his heart thirsted for the secret to Voldemort's immortality in order to defeat him. And the key to that was Tom Riddle. So Harry looked into silver eyes and said:

"Will you tell me more about it?"

And Tom Riddle smiled, delighted.  
"I thought you would never ask".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, comment if you liked it and what improvements I should make. English is not my first language. I hope I explained well what Harry's strategy is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter from Tom's POV. It's a brief look into his thoughts about his short acquaintance with Harry.

One morning there was a strange new face in his Potion Class. His face held a great deal of interest, animated by a quiet sort of beauty. His name was Evans and Tom endeavored to observe his actions and wished to know him very much and if possible to arouse the mystic sensations felt when they exchanged a single glance. The quick glance of the blue-green eyes of his interest held a mysterious power over Tom. It was like meeting an old, forgotten friend from his childhood. A strange sympathy was kindled in his thoughts for the Gryffindor. In his heart of hearts he was convinced the depth of interest was not unrequited. And Tom was used to nothing more than to following the whims of his heart.

In the next days he was puzzled by Evans' behavior. When he was turning a corner to head towards the toilets he saw Evans arrive from another corner to go the same way but upon spotting Tom, his steps stuttered and he promptly turned back the way he came. In the other classes, Evans avoided sitting near Tom even when he deliberately left a seat empty next to himself. Once he collided quite unintentionally with the object of his infatuation over the moving staircases on the way to Transfiguration. Tom held the boy steadily by his arm before he could slip into the jaw of death but the other boy left so fast, vaulting down the steps that Tom had hardly the time to speak.

The clumsy efforts to avoid meeting, the constant silent staring, the quick stolen glances were a child's play and went on without either boy acknowledging the tension that had the flavor of a forbidden affair. Tom's heart burned ardently with the desire to know Evans and this was the sentiment that led to him to initiate a conversation over a quite remarkable feature of Evans' face: the scar on his brow in the shape of the Killing Curse. It was distinct and curious and shapely. The mark remained unfaded, or it could be the rune Sowilo for protection. It could be a birthmark or a cicatrix; either way it dwelt in Tom's mind more than any other characteristic of Evans, all of which were worthy of his obsessive attention.

Harry Evans had a mind curious for forbidden knowledge like Tom's. A penchant for secretiveness. His solitary night reading in the restricted section had not escaped his attention. Tom himself had predilection to stay up in the library learning forbidden lore in secret. So when one day he observed Evans cancel his disillusionment charm in the gloom of the Restricted Section, his luxuriantly wild inky hair softly lit in the moonlight, Tom's heart jumped in his chest. Being so near the object of his infatuation, silently staring at his frustrated research for answers in the dark arts, his masculine face a light in the surrounding dark. Tom loved beautiful things and here there was one presented to him out of nowhere. The Slytherin left the Gryffindor to his devices, dreaming for a friendship with one who was very similar to himself.

His assay in the library, one afternoon, to inquire after the peculiar scar on Evans' forehead did not yield fruit. It only left a bitter taste in his mouth, of rejection. Evans was not Tom's soulmate. And yet Tom could not help but wish their souls had ended up being the same. No matter. The next day, Tom steadfastly ignored the other boy and yet in a room full of people, Evans' eyes were only on Tom.

Evans would be his friend, he finally decided and ambushed the Gryffindor in the library that very night.  
It would be the start of a most beautiful friendship, to understand and to be understood with absolute clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is another chapter! Someone expressed confusion at tom's motivation so here it is a short chapter POV from our favourite dark lord.  
> The the line at the end is a quote taken from Hannibal TV.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow archive users
> 
> This is my first story here, so please be sure to comment if you liked and even if you did not like it it. 
> 
> I have some of this written and I have a clear end in mind, so tell if I should continue!
> 
> Ciao!


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